


Heat and Sugar

by glamorouspixels



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Established Phrack, F/M, Kitchen Sex, Shameless Smut, Smutty Baking, Table Sex, and a fluffy first chapter, chaotic baking, expectation vs. reality, flirting over cake vs. actually baking with phryne, happy valentine's day, jack looks hot while he's baking, obviously, that's the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22712866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamorouspixels/pseuds/glamorouspixels
Summary: Two one shots centering around baking, set at different stages in Phryne and Jack's relationship. Phryne appears at the station with a very special piece of cake, which prompts Jack to wonder what it's really like to bake with Phryne. Read this to find out!
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so here's the situation with this: Chapter 1 is a fluffy, pre-relationship scene that's in here because it's cake-related. Chapter 2 is established Phrack and very, very smutty. 
> 
> Again, I had to post both chapters simultaneously because my AO3 doesn't let me go back to edit fics outside of just adding new chapters, so I wouldn't have been able to change the rating to E. But yay for getting to the smut right away?
> 
> And thank you to acrazyobsession for beta reading! <3

There was an unusual stillness in the air that Jack found secretly unnerving. Where normally he would’ve been eager to see to his paperwork, or at least pleased to add to the proud pile of finalized reports aligned by the desk lamp off to the left, he couldn’t shake the notion that something was amiss. On the outside everything appeared perfectly in order, from the wild sea of papers before him shrinking into pliant stacks to his favorite fountain pen tucked securely into his palm as he filled the page before him in a neat, serious script. 

Even outside the office the quiet continued, enveloping Collins where he carried out his own tasks. If the hours ahead played out as those just passed, he might call it an early day, heading home to lose himself in the gently yellowed pages of a time-worn book. The words would calm him, forming a path narrow and linear into dusty worlds of ink that always bid him welcome, tumbling from the page – he could think of no better way to spend his night. Then why couldn’t he shake his unease?

His hand writing away as his thoughts went in circles, Jack never looked up from the report before him; whatever it was that troubled him continued to narrowly avoid his reach. Added to his concern came the slight nagging at the back of his mind that something was coming, but he clung to the words that danced around his irritation undisturbed.

And indeed, the door to the street was opened; he could almost feel the air grow heavy with anticipation – and perhaps a healthy dose of his wariness as it burst in. 

“Hello, Hugh! Is the Inspector in the house?”

_Ah._

He relaxed slightly in his chair, the letters flowing a little slower from his pen as he strained his ears to listen. He could picture Hugh’s mouth opening and closing around words that wouldn’t quite reveal themselves as Phryne was already pushing past him and through to Jack’s own door. 

“Actually, Miss, I believe he’s rather busy-”

“Morning, Jack!” And there she was, sashaying unperturbedly into his office with a basket clutched firmly in both hands. Without hesitation she set it down by the leg of his desk and took her rightful place atop the shining surface. The spot to his right, which had previously appeared vacant. _Of course._

Overcome, Jack set aside his pen and reclined in his chair to regard her. The world had grown softer with her in it; it blurred to make room for the full sharp brightness of her shine. Jack tried not to think about how the air had settled, like whatever had been carved out to threaten sparks like the calm before the storm, her presence had cooled.

“I’ve brought us something especially exciting today,” she announced, keeping glittering eyes on him as she reached blindly downward, and he strained to dismiss the way her joyous grin and the gleeful tone of her voice combined to lift his heart. 

Lifting the basket to her lap, she went right to work, discarding layers of wrapping. What was uncovered caused him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. “How so?” He finally asked just before Phryne pulled from the basket a plate on which lay a thick slice of smooth-looking cheesecake. Certain he’d enjoyed that particular creation before, Jack eyed the cake suspiciously, yet he could detect nothing unusual about it. He’d managed to sneak a bite or two when Miss Williams had dropped it off with lunch; it had been a delight to discover that his lean, hungry look also worked on sympathetic constables. 

But now, as Phryne announced she’d assisted in baking the cake presented, Jack couldn’t help to feel reasonably unsure. Phryne Fisher was certainly known to possess a variety of talents – though none of them involved waiting patiently in a hot and humid room, twiddling her thumbs as the sweet mixture she’d developed rose slowly to perfection. It wasn’t that he didn’t find the idea thrilling, but above all pleasure of seeing Phryne sulk, he pictured the chaos that was certain to ensue. 

His apprehension must have been sprawled across his features because Phryne glared at him. “Come on, it looks perfectly alright! I know you want to try it.” Well, she was not wrong, and it did look presentable. Despite that, he continued to eye the creamy slice distrustfully, as though the soft filling might reveal any magic spells she'd cast. 

“Jaaack!” She whined. From the basket Phryne produced a fork and unceremoniously broke off a large piece of the slice. But instead of handing it to him as he'd expected, she nudged it gently against his lips and looked at him expectantly, dark-eyed. The breath he drew in was a little shaky, and the collar of his shirt felt suddenly too tight; the coolness of the piece made his lips tingle, but all he could feel was the way her own lips seemed to move, an intake of breath so insignificant it shouldn’t have caught his eyes. Like it was her mouth preparing to meet his, sinking against his mouth and taking the place of the silky cheesecake.

“Phryne, I don't think-” Jack began before he stopped himself. It seemed the fastest way to end his predicament was to accept the proffered piece – and so he did before the doubts could interject, keeping his eyes on Phryne’s as he closed his lips around the luscious bite. It was the sweet temptation of her gaze that caused him to admit defeat. What he found there was no longer a mask of harmlessness. He thought back to the doe-eyed look, the way her scarlet lips had parted just so all these months ago, as his own had taken in that first bite of gratin.

Even now, with intense eyes pinning him to his chair, Jack felt utterly ridiculous – and yet he knew she delighted in having him at her mercy this way; he didn't miss her slightly louder gasp as he welcomed the piece. 

As he finally aimed his attention at the cake’s rich flavor, he had to admit that it hadn't turned out any less delicious for Phryne’s involvement in its making, doubtlessly under Dot’s strict supervision. The taste was heavenly, the dense sweetness mingling with light whipped cream and the slight crumbliness of the crust. Unlike the time he'd run off with a slice of Dot’s cheesecake, he could detect a hint of vanilla that he presumed to be unique to Phryne’s interpretation of the recipe. 

She certainly possessed a skill worth strengthening; Jack might even offer his assistance in doing just that. He himself was no expert, although without a doubt capable; and he'd welcome any excuse to gather outside of their carved-out space, if only to see her entirely unconfined, no murder to resting heavily on their shoulders and shadowing their every move. 

His mind promptly painted the scene, a vivid snapshot of the two of them in his kitchen, warm sunlight caressing their rose-tinged skin. Their cake safely in the oven, he'd guide Phryne flush against the counter, his hands gripping the soft curves of her hips as her legs closed around his waist. He imagined the breathless press of her lips on his, the feather-winged brush of her lashes when her eyes fluttered shut, and her fingers curling into the locks of his hair to evoke a gentle groan. 

She'd smile against his mouth and, once they had no choice but to break apart for air, gaze upon him with such dreaminess that his knees went weak, making no move to let him go. A small smudge of cake batter he'd find upon her cheek – the taste as he kissed it away was almost as sweet as her long-awaited touch. And with the luscious scent of chocolate in the air, they shared a smile of equal richness that spoke of sugar and honey to come.

***

Phryne watched Jack as he chewed, looking beautifully flustered as his thoughts had clearly wandered elsewhere. When his eyes regained their focus, she could detect something mildly scandalized about his looks – if it tempted him to such _appetizing_ responses, she vowed to try her hand at baking more often. 

“What do you think? I'm keen to see how it holds up against Dot’s creations.” The gentle tone of her voice eased him out of his reverie; Jack blinked twice and rapidly rearranged his attention, disregarding for the moment the excitement he heard lurking behind her words. 

Phryne, in that moment, chose not to mention that her friend had barely left her side, frightened to death she'd burn her precious kitchen to the ground. Or that Dot had controlled more than guided her through most of the process. No, she quite enjoyed the illusion that it was just her who held him spellbound, and his blossoming blush she filed as her own success. 

“It's...good.” Jack rapidly nodded his head but avoided her eyes. Even as she wondered where his mind had gone off to, she couldn't help but the offended glare that found him. 

“Jack! I didn't spend all morning holed up in the kitchen just for _good_. Can you imagine how dull it gets in there? And it's all hot and sticky.” She shivered dramatically. Then she added, soft again, “But I endured it for you.” Her own boldness stunned her, and neither did it soothe Jack’s newfound confusion – until a new kind of certainty settled upon his features. He eased the fork out of Phryne’s grip and a little thrill shot through her as his fingers lingered just a little too long. His thumb brushed against the soft skin of her wrist and her racing pulse there. 

“Why don't you see for yourself?” He asked, his voice low. Cutting up another forkful of cake, he brought it to her mouth with his eyes tender but cautious. Phryne leaned forward and took it between her lips. 

As she'd expected, it was indeed better than good. She'd ensured to precisely stick to Dot’s instructions, only adding a liberal dash of vanilla into the mix when she hadn't been looking, and she thought the risk of unleashing Dot’s distress upon herself had paid off. The added aroma gave the cake a warm, sensual touch, certainly justifying Jack’s enthralled reaction. 

“Good is certainly putting it mildly,” she confirmed, secretly delighting in the favorable outcome and the warmth flowing through her at the taste. Not that she thought of the cake for long with Jack’s palm now resting casually on her knee, melting her through the fabric of her stocking.

“You know, Miss Fisher, I'm afraid I didn't get the chance to fully value the experience. Perhaps a second taste is in order?” With that, Jack passed the fork back to her, eyes beaming. Unlike Phryne, however, his face maintained an expression of practiced calm; her mouth had dropped open in awe of the unexpected proposal.

***

They continued to feed each other until nothing remained but discarded crumbs, passing the single fork between them and allowing the tension to build. By the time they were finished, the air had grown thick enough to cut, and they were both left improperly breathless. Atop the table, Phryne had moved in closer until she was practically on top of him, a stance brimming with potential. Her legs dangled on either side of Jack’s chair and almost enclosed his own. His hand, throughout their exchange, had gone astray and was absently caressing up her calf and along the delicate bone of her ankle, the rhythm enchanting and firm. 

Her breath had hitched when he'd moved along the back of her knee, the ghost of a touch – but he never made it farther than that. A safe distance, as always, remained; he let the fire between them roar free, but never went far enough to stoke it. Still it felt largely riskless and familiar, even with her gaze dark and steady and unapologetically challenging. Letting him explore his limits but never demanding he cross them. It was enough, for now, to have his fingers soft and stable against her skin. 

It was in that position, bewitched by the emotion his touch buried in her skin, that they contemplated how the rest of their encounter would play out. Neither of them quite wanted Phryne to leave, bustling about as she normally would – but it was she who broke the charged silence that had settled almost too comfortably between them, fitting like a second skin and entirely different from the threat of lightning and thunder before.

“Are you free for supper tonight?” Phryne’s own hand came to rest on Jack’s where it cupped the curve of her knee. She allowed herself the soft caress of her thumb on the back of his hand, stroking away his careful look. Jack was visibly fighting with himself, and her heart constricted with the force of his doubts. But for now she’d done all that she could, gently reeling him in – she would pull him invisibly closer until he might, one day, reciprocate. And so her offer hung between them, kept from shattering in its flight by the fragile softness of her touch. 

“Are you sure that’s rational? I wouldn’t want to exhaust your hospitality.” Each word was a tiny fracture on the surface of her heart; it broke and spilled and was pieced together by the hope she saw blossoming, a single star on a cloudy night, in the eyes that were dark and steady on hers. 

She picked her tone carefully to drive out most of the shadows, and the sly smile on her lips did the rest. “Oh, don’t fret – I’d be honored to have you.” She let her words carry on the quiet of a breath, and the melting of her smile into softness chased it. “And besides, there’s more where that came from.” Phryne tilted her head toward the empty plate. No longer subject to their desire, it sat abandoned beside her on the desk. She knew the temptation of baked decadence was a tough one to resist. 

He was no less reluctant but grateful nonetheless, and agreed to see her at the end of his shift. An early night was out of the question; Jack’s muscles shed the last of their calm as he felt the concluding seconds pass. The time had come to see Phryne off, and with her the last of his sanity, leaving his usually tight-knotted thoughts in scrambles – or so he explained that he allowed himself one final liberty. 

Jack pulled Phryne up by her hips as he stood, even allowed his hands to linger on the soft pillow of her flesh, cherishing the reassurance of her warm skin through the layers. Her own hands stroked his chest and she looked up to him with blazing eyes. “Jack,” she breathed, and with her fingers settling on his lapels her gaze measured the openness of his office and dulled from a rising sun to subdued clouds.

He took the opportunity to move away when her expression cleared a little, wanting to flee their situation for somewhere more private before they ventured on. It was his last chance of retreat and he took it with a heavy heart, wanting nothing more than the strength to give in.

“I'll expect you at seven?” She busied herself by assembling the tableware that had scattered like their frightened hearts. The world returned to focus around him, briefly cold and meaningless from the gaping void of her touch. 

“I look forward to it,” he replied.

“So do I, Jack.” 

They shared a small, intimate smile as he clung to the softness of his name in her mouth, which would stay with him long after she'd already left. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Would you at least be so kind as to pass me the flour?” 

Jack glanced up at Phryne, sat by his side atop the counter and conveniently blocking the flow of the sun, the soft light at her back making her appear deceptively angelic. Hands curled around the edges of the counter and legs dangling off its front, she made no secret of her appreciation as her eyes swept over his working form.

“Of course! I’m always happy to assist,” she responded brightly. Just then her attention had been on his arms, on the muscles working beneath taut, tanned skin, handling a whisk with weightless ease. Every so often her gaze would flick to the furrow of concentration in his brow, his deliciously unkempt hair, and the shadows flitting across his cheeks and making prominent his sharpened cheekbones, occasionally trickling downward to emphasize the tendons of his throat. 

Sugar, butter, eggs, and thick, velvety chocolate that glistened in the shifting light – effortless and confident was the motion of his wrist that combined it all. Although it did seem like a waste of those broad strong hands, which Phryne wished were presently occupied elsewhere; a variety of better uses came immediately to mind, leaving her body electrified with anticipation. 

Almost resentfully, she uncapped the flour tin, which she knew would soon be the subject of his singular focus – unless she had anything to do with it. So far his eyes had barely even found hers, his thoughts directed at the air-whipped mixture in the bowl before him, the scent of chocolate rising in the air. It made her pursuit all the more exciting.

The supreme strategy, she knew, was to lure him in with harmlessness. A false sense of security; a cheeky remark one second, the lightest touch the next. All else could wait until he was close enough to steal away. And Phryne Fisher always got what she wanted – but first, patience. A difficult undertaking under the best of circumstances, and close to unthinkable with her fingers itching to feel the hidden heat of his skin.

And so, before passing him the container of flour, which would soon find its way into a separate bowl intended to hold the dry ingredients, she dipped her finger into the tin and pressed it carefully to his nose, leaving behind a smudge of powdery white. 

It earned her only a quick glare; Jack brushed it off with the back of his hand, schooled his features into practiced calm, and began to sift the flour while looking disturbingly unbothered. There was no way in hell he didn’t feel her eyeing him. Phryne thought she was a picture of remarkable restraint, yet he didn’t show his appreciation as she thought he damn well should. At least not all seemed lost – his lip moved in the shadow of a smile at her little huff of indignation, making him more beautiful than he had any right to be. Only grudgingly could Phryne admit that he looked right in his element, perfectly at home between the piles of ingredients and tools. 

He navigated them with ease, adding the sifted flour and baking soda to the sweet blend previously set aside. Then came the splashes of milk, and soon there stood the velvety batter, waiting to be poured. Phryne watched in fascination as it came together, and the confidence with which he worked caused a pool of warmth to rush low in her belly, desire tingling pleasantly on her skin. She was playing a game with herself, a battle for control she was all too happy to lose; if only Jack would let her.

“Do you have nothing better to do than prey on unsuspecting bakers?” The low rumble of his voice was a caress going straight to her core, and that damned man hadn’t even bothered to look up. 

Phryne’s own words carried the high tone of feigned innocence laced with barely concealed greed. “Prey? You’re more than welcome to fight back, Jack.” Leaving a deliberate, loaded pause, her desire only grew when he didn’t jump in to fill it. When all else failed, there was always plain honesty to fall back on, wrapped in the thinnest veil of flirtation. “And besides, what else is there to do? I wouldn’t miss this view for the world. Although, there’s always room for improvement…”

He was just readying the cake tin as Phryne leaned into him to make the proposed adjustment, unbuttoning his shirt to mid-chest. His skin was like velvet beneath her fingertips, beckoning her closer. To her delight, Jack froze for only a blink with the bowl suspended in mid air, but his ultimate reaction was the complete opposite of what she wanted; his muscles, threatening to tense as she followed an invisible trail down his arms, shifted back into deliberate calm. Before the batter could hit the tin, he touched the bowl decisively back down to the counter. 

“You know, Miss Fisher,” he began, and of course now he was facing her. “I think this calls for another dash of vanilla.”

***

The cake finally in the oven, the fiery coil in her belly had loosened slightly, but refusing to give up so easily, she’d retained her spot by his side all the same. Jack was tidying up and his restraint appeared to have taken a dent; she saw him smiling quietly to himself under the warm scrutiny of her eyes. 

“I promise I’ll be right with you.” Jack sounded almost too casual, but the edges of his words danced with quiet amusement. And when he finally came to her, too slowly making his way to where Phryne was sitting, the empty bowl remained firmly in his grip. “But first-” Leaning forward in sweet relief and expectation, she couldn’t help the little moan of impatience that escaped her; Jack only smiled.

He wiped a finger along the edge of the bowl, catching the remnants of the dark batter, and held it out for her to taste. 

“Here, try this – before it goes to waste.” Although Phryne was briefly stunned, the twinkle in his eyes confirmed his being serious. His darkened eyes spoke volumes, contrasting beautifully with the golden morning light. Now, from the new angle, he was no longer clouded in shadow and Phryne could see the bob of his Adam’s apple across the soft skin of his throat as he swallowed hard. 

Fingertips cradling his wrist, she wrapped her tongue around his finger, tasting the molten chocolate and the slight roughness of his skin. Jack held perfectly still, eyes searching hers from the higher angle. The chocolate was smooth and silky, and the vanilla warm and lush. A soft moan caught in her throat as Jack pulled back, sliding along the sensitive inside of her lips. Still, Phryne didn’t release his hand, dropped it instead to her lap. The bones of his wrist, his steadily thumping pulse felt so delicate beneath her touch; where her own heart stumbled in an effort to maintain control, Jack had become focused, intense; that precious, undivided attention, finally all hers.

“Worth the wait?” He asked, shifting his trapped hand so that his knuckles grazed between her thighs; the corner of his mouth twitched as her muscles clenched involuntarily. The rest of him faked ignorance, letting her have her small wobbly hum of indifference, the attempt rendered hopeless by the flush coloring her cheeks a shade of fierce desire. 

“ _Oh_ -” Began Jack, then broke off.

Phryne was close to exploding as his eyes dropped to her lips, skimming the edge of lunging at him when his hand escaped her grasp, even the slightest contact gone – but Jack knew it wouldn’t do to keep her waiting. “You’ve got a little cake batter...right there.” 

At first it was merely his thumb stroking the very edge of her lower lip but even that caused her skin to catch fire. Then, in one swift move, her head was tilted back and he was kissing her with that single-minded focus she had longed to obtain. 

She clung to Jack with trembling fingers as he caught her lower lip, his tongue sweeping to gather every last trace of chocolate. The thoroughness applied to caress her tongue, the soft insides of her cheeks, and the edges of her teeth was convincing evidence – he knew exactly what he was doing to her. 

Hell, he even steadied her, strong hands on her shoulders holding her still, the sole resistance that kept her from melting, from overflowing into his arms. And _oh_ , she was tempted, if it weren’t for the smugness in his gaze as he pulled back. He looked utterly composed while she clutched, breathless, at the edge of the counter for support.

“Jack…” He was the center of her world as it kept on spinning. She wanted him again; wanted, _needed_ , more. Phryne didn’t think, just looked frantically around the room. The sight of the abandoned bowl made her blood spike white-hot and she lunged for him, yanking his head down to take his mouth. She poured all of herself into the kiss and Jack responded in kind; he’d pulled her to the very end of the counter, the deadlock of her legs around his hips all that kept her afloat. There was no retreating now as she tasted him and a whisper of cocoa and the rough edges of his moans.

Never holding back, she rocked as hard as she could against his hips, his cock as it fought the bounds of his trousers; a distraction as carnal as it should have been obvious. It only made sense that she should grip his jaw and feel its slide as his tongue swirled hers and she soaked in his groans – but it also allowed her other hand to roam unnoticed.

She’d blindly found the bowl, and hoped the clang as she almost missed was distant to him as it was to her as her pulse thrashed wild. The batter was cool velvet under her fingers, and if it hadn’t been for her wicked smile blossoming against his lips she was sure he wouldn’t have caught the stealthy drag of the chocolate she smeared to his throat. She could perfectly picture the expanse of bronze skin and the desire raging underneath, eager for her lips and tongue.

“Phryne? What are you doing?” Jack had pulled away a fraction, growled the words into her mouth with his breath coming hot and ragged; it made her shiver all over.

“Keep still.” She tugged his swollen bottom lip between her teeth, tasting a final sweet moan before she backed off, following the trail of his racing pulse down his beautiful neck. Head thrown back, Jack held her close with his fingers crowding between the flowing strands of her hair, and only when her tongue found his throat and she hummed her approval did his frantic mind grasp her aim.

Her mouth was searing hot as she cleaned the batter off his skin, all soft lips and demanding tongue. He’d tensed, initially, bemusement clouding his vision at the velvet sheen on his skin, but then it was over far too soon; a mere playful experiment, she’d only left a narrow print. But her tongue had been thorough and her moans full of want, and he’d loved the tender stroke of her hand on the other side of his throat.

“Delicious?”

“ _Divine_ , Jack,” she purred; then shared the heady aroma on another blood-boiling kiss. Phryne had scooted back on the counter, she had to bend forward to meet his lips. Jack was grateful for the change of angles, Phryne’s thin wrap blouse had fallen open and he pushed his hand inside, cupping her breast. Her nipple pebbling to hardness between his fingers, his thumb traced the full underside, causing her breath to hitch. 

When she captured his neck again, eagerly licking as though his skin had absorbed the luscious taste, her breast urged deeper into his touch. Needing more of her, he tugged lightly at the fine material. Jack’s resolve was rapidly melting under the scorching heat of her tongue, greedily drinking the low tremor in his voice as he chased the strength to speak. 

“Take this off,” he said, fingers clutching at her blouse, “this is going to get messy.” A pathetic excuse, but her eyes, as she emerged, flashed with evil delight.

“You, too.” 

But he couldn’t seem to stop touching her, applying wayward brushes from the fragile line of her throat to the inner curves of her breasts, where her skin was impossibly soft. But soon he was clawing at her blouse like a drowning man at the waves, and then his own shirt joined hers in a tangle of passion and pleas as her breasts pushed tightly against his chest and her hands caressed his back. Squeezing the soft globes of her arse as he went, Jack swept his hand underneath the backs of her thighs, lifting her off the counter and into his arms.

He sat Phryne down on the kitchen table, where she rested back on her elbows to watch him retrieve the bowl. 

“My turn,” growled Jack upon returning, and the way his hungry gaze caught her rising and falling breasts as she regained her breath made her skin prickle in hot anticipation. He drew a small invisible trail down the rise of her breast, which he followed and extended with his finger dark and gleaming with chocolate batter, and these strokes alone were enough to make her whimper. Her breath caught at the unexpected coolness of it on her heated flesh, wedging even deeper as she saw the look in his eyes. It was so dark and deep it made her arms give out from under her, and she fell back against the table in a glorious display of open, shameless want. 

His fingertips continued to stroke the side of her breast and his mouth began a slow ascent of her side; he started from the waistband of her trousers and mapped her curves with soft kisses and wet tongue. 

Jack’s teeth grazed her rib cage before his journey reached its end and he found the crease where her breast met her ribs, his mouth painting the outline. He worked feather-light kisses along the side of it, at first pursuing the path of his hand, then moving further inward, groaning as delicious chocolate mixed with the sweetness of her flesh. The taste swirled his tongue to shoot through him coils of velvet pleasure that writhed and tightened, forming a beautiful melody with her strangled moans. 

As his tongue washed her slowly of the traces of the batter, Phryne was clinging to his head with trembling fingers and her other hand stroked her neglected breast. She arched desperately into his mouth; any more than the promise of his breath had yet to touch her hardened nipple and she was already throbbing against her knickers, beating helplessly for sweet release.

Bottom lip trapped between her teeth, Phryne raised her head and felt almost blindly for the tiny buttons that held closed her trousers, whimpering as her fingers shook with the violence of built-up need. 

“Jack-” She gasped and he came promptly to her aid, albeit with an infuriating smugness she couldn't wait to dissolve into smoke under the heat of her hands. 

“Allow me.” He emerged just long enough from her aching breasts to flash her a dark-eyed smile, but there was no strength in her to even focus a glare. The world had narrowed to the points of his touch; at first his mouth and the chocolate and the stroking fingers on her flesh.

Then came his other hand on her cunt as he discarded her trousers and tap pants in one swift glide and his fingers slid through the wiry curls between her legs. He teased open her dripping folds, sending her blood rushing to meet his caress. Pushing one leg up onto the wooden tabletop, she thrust up her hips, desperate to take inside her his nudging fingers and moaning, rubbing against him, as he found the spot within her that was sure to make her sob. 

Indulging in her breathless whimpers, he made it his mission to draw from the spectrum a whole rainbow of sounds, all of which shot through his veins like flashes of lightning. Jack’s fingers continued to push into her and she arched her hips to grind against him and meet his every stroke, pulling him as deep as he would go. All the while his other hand continued to stroke her breast with the slightest touch and his tongue lashed out to finally flick her nipple. 

Phryne’s focus tore between his blazing hot tongue, massaging the nipple now trapped between his lips, and the relentless plunge of him into her sex growing firmer with her climbing moans. Jack’s own world contained nothing but her desperate trembling, gasping, and the feel of her sweat-slicked skin as she pushed her breast into his mouth, tasting sweeter than the chocolate alone ever could. He opened his mouth against the force of her body pulling tight and she came with her nipple grazing his teeth and her muscles throbbing around his fingers.

As his hand drew away from her burning heat and her hard breathing slowly evened out, he left a trail of restless kisses from her breast, flushed pink with pleasure, to her jawline, their urgency barely hidden within the deceiving softness of his lips. From there he found her earlobe to scrape with his teeth and the words he whispered in her ear were raw and dark like desire itself. 

“Truly exquisite, Phryne.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” she breathed, high and soft like the grin she turned her head to press against his lips. Amidst the lazy kiss she rose into a seating position, clasping her legs around his hips and dragging her nipples as small tight points against his chest. Her muscles soon grew tense again and Jack reveled at the feel of her, the secure lock of skin against skin trapping their frantic hearts and his cock where it sought her center. It tented the restraining fabric, no amount of friction enough.

Phryne felt his hopeless moan vibrate around her tongue and sent on its way a searching hand to stroke him; she gladly accepted his ragged breaths and frantic thrusts into her palm.

“Trousers off, darling,” she began against his lips as her free hand brushed along his back, the muscles flexing with barely held restraint, “unless you need my help again?” Her assistance with the cake had faded into an ancient-feeling memory at the back of her mind, but his eyes as she backed off after brushing her nose against his spoke with such intensity that she didn’t have the heart to linger on her teasing. He gave a powerful tremble as slender fingers reached just into his waistband and ghosting the firm swell of his arse; it was all the push he needed to let his trousers and underwear pile on the floor. 

Of course, her hand promptly gave chase. It confidently wrapped around his throbbing length, overwhelming his senses so her soft wet lick at his nipple took him completely by surprise. She tucked her head beneath his chin to watch and set a rhythm, one hand massaging his cockhead with every upward stroke as the other played with his balls and brushed the sensitive skin just behind them. The gorgeous image of her fingers around his reddened flesh made her cheeks flush and her cunt pound with want, releasing a hot flood of wetness at the thought of his hardness sliding between her legs. 

Jack appeared to share the sentiment; his hand tightened on her hip bone, feeling the soft slight rise of it beneath the tips of his fingers. In one frantic movement he dragged her head up from under his chin and abandoned the warm wrap of her hand to push finally into her. 

Mirroring his deeper groan, Phryne gasped, stretched and fluttered around him, and brought her arms around Jack to hold him tight. Her head buried in his shoulder and she bit the fragile skin there, savored the jolt of the intrusion of him – her entire body had bounced with the shock of it, washing white-hot through her already heavy limbs. The traces of his fingers now followed by his hardened cock left her shaking; it was too much but she needed more, clamping her legs around his ass to drag him closer. 

“Alright?” He growled after a moment when it took all he had not to slam into her and overpowering want tinged his speech. It closed in on his thoughts and his thighs were clenching in an effort to hold still. 

“God, yes, Jack,” she gasped. He could feel her grind against his base, chasing her pleasure without sacrificing the sensation of him hot and thick within her flesh. Phryne was barely balanced on the edge of the tabletop; a second’s hesitation had her entire body clinging to the ridge of his cock. 

With the very last of her composure she clamped down hard around his length, tearing loose a moan from the dark coil of arousal low within his belly. It had caught control of the whole of him, a series of bursting sparks that led the way to pull him deeper, forever deeper into the squeezing of her cunt.

That first barrier – releasing his solid grasp on her just enough to retreat, withdrawing from the snug wetness of her – was enough to almost break him, but she thrust right back to meet his rapid strokes. His mouth was on her breast, feeling it bounce as he jerked against her and drinking in the sobs beneath her skin. She was straining against the arm he’d wrapped around her back, her shaking body angled to hit his pelvis whenever his lust-stained cock disappeared to the hilt. 

Her own hands gripped his shoulders, steadying her, fastened to him with a fierceness that made him linger – on every press so deep and straining he thought his lungs might give out, and on always bumping into the spot just beyond her opening upon hearing her delicious keens. She twitched, fluttered, and Jack could tell she was close.

Keeping her secure in his arm, he pulled Phryne against him, and she broke the focus on her pleasure to open her eyes and fix him with her lust-glazed eyes, the ocean of her eyes washed dark and sparkling with his final strokes.

And he almost followed her over – _almost_. Jack was seeing stars as he let her shake and shudder in his grasp, her muscles clutching at his cock still deep and hard inside of her, twisting and squeezing him with the uncontrolled movements of her hips. His hands were everywhere, whisper-soft touches that stroked her down from her high. When her breath came free in her throat and the trembles subsided, she pressed her sated grin to his mouth, shifting. And it was his turn to bite back a groan as the flow of her body, her melting against the hardness of his limbs, made her insides squirm around his cock. 

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, panted; gentle fingers cupped his heated face and attempted to smooth the furrow in his brow. It made his heart expand for different reasons altogether. His mouth was tingling from the softness of her own, the little gasps she made and her tongue along the seam of his lips – but his resolve broke into fragments upon seeing the tenderness in her barely opened eyes. Some hidden passion stirred within him, bursting with delicate crystals that etched into his heart.

He needed her to feel it, too; he wrapped his hands around her thighs to pull her tighter and her breath hitched again before it had altogether smoothed. Phryne clutched at his neck, flung an arm around his shifting shoulders as Jack pulsed into her, filling her with the ache reckless lust and love. Rocking with him, taking every thrust, she planted bites and kisses wherever she could reach. They were sharp and hot like the drag of her nipples, stiff against his chest, spreading the ache and amplifying the wild pounding of their hearts until the force of it consumed him.

It didn’t take long. A few thrusts, she relished his hips stuttering into her, let him use her as they chased his pleasure. He was digging frantically into her thighs and pressing her roughly against him. His beautiful sobs filled her just like his essence as he pushed further and stretched her and spent himself, deep and hot, against her walls. 

Phryne was fierce as she clung to him. Gently unraveling the tension in the wake of her fingers, she caressed his sweaty skin as he came down, fanning out lightness where he had shared his deepest love. 

***

“Lesson learned?” Jack murmured eventually against her skin. Despite his heavy limbs he felt giddy with climax, which proved a dangerous blend – but the mischievous glint in his eyes only added to the flush on his cheeks and the rare smile that stretched his mouth. She chuckled through the pleasant twist in her chest and reached up into his hair, spilling thick between her slender fingers. 

“What lesson?” Replied Phryne in the softest voice; so soft he crushed his lips against hers and stroked her breasts, cradling her heart in the tips of his fingers. 

“You know,” he said into her mouth, making sure to caress her lips and clearly stalling, “don’t disrupt the baker or-” 

She nipped lightly at his bottom lip through a hopeless grin. “Or what, you’ll feast on me instead? Never hold back on my account.” A second’s pause let him cover her smile with another one of his own. “Next time, perhaps? I think we should bake more often.” 

“We?” He asked. “What’s your contribution?” 

“Oh, Jack,” Phryne laughed, and it lit him up and extended deep into his soaring soul, “isn’t it obvious?” When she fixed him with an open grin, it was as though she couldn’t contain her glee; she seemed to have no choice but to plant the sun itself inside his heart. The world was just a little brighter when as time stood still and her smile was dazzling, and the tone of her voice lulled him into foolish bliss.

“I'm the reward.”

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a really shitty coffeeshop AU around August of last year, which I then revisited for NaNoWriMo but still couldn't get done. I decided to save whatever bits I could and used them to turn this into baking smut and I think I finally like the end result. Thank you for reading! <3


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